Acts 16:16-34; Easter 7C; 5/29/22
Paul and Silas bound in jail
Had no money for to go their bail
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on
Paul and Silas thought they was lost
Dungeon shook and the chains come off
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.
Throughout history, praying and the singing of hymns have been subversive actions people of faith have taken to bring about change within the established order. These actions have moved people to engage culture, to act, and to work for change. We saw this during the Civil Rights Movement as people subversively worked for equality, civil rights, and policy change in society. People of faith routinely sang hymns like We Shall Overcome and Keep Your Eyes On The Prize, the hymn I just quoted. The time is upon us when we must do this again as we face our culture’s brokenness. We must confess the idolatry of our worship of guns. We must confess our malignant ideology of extreme individualism and personal rights, face our captivity to guns, face the evil plague of gun violence in this land, and work for change. We have been acting subversively this morning as we began worship with a litany Lamenting Gun Violence and then sang the hymn If We Just Talk Of Thoughts And Prayers. We act subversively as we do this, while at the same time working for change within the context of the present established order of rule in this country. Activities like these have been an aspect of the faith community for centuries.
As the Jesus movement was born and began to spread throughout the Roman Empire, Christianity both helped to subvert the long Roman domination in people’s lives and at the same time preserve what was best within it. In fact, as we think about Jesus’ own ministry, he was always subverting the established order – not only the civil order of the day, but also the religious order. Sharing and living the good news of Jesus has always been a subversive form of living because Jesus brings change to established order imposed by the world. And, today we find Paul and Silas living into this aspect of a life of faith as we hear more about their adventures while spreading the good news of Jesus. They are living into this aspect of a life of faith as they act to heal a slave girl, pray, and sing hymns while facing their present context within the established order of Roman rule.
Having been led by a vision to go to Macedonia, this missionary team wanders into Philippi. They begin engaging people with the gospel and engaging the culture in significant ways. Last week we heard about one of their first encounters. They had a conversation with Lydia who owned a thriving business in expensive purple cloth. She became one of their first supporters and was not only converted to be a follower of this person, Jesus, she offered her home as headquarters for Paul’s Philippian ministry.
Today we initially find Paul and Silas having an encounter with another business, one that is fueled by a woman’s brokenness and captivity. They encounter a slave girl who is possessed by a spirit not of God, but a spirit that could tell people’s fortunes. This girl’s supposed “gift” meant she was owned and used as a commodity, providing her owners with a small, profitable business. Finding herself drawn to Paul and Silas, she names who they are and what they are doing. Much like a broken record, she repeatedly shouts her message saying, “These men are slaves of the Most High God, and they are telling you the way to be saved.” Well, Paul finally has enough and becomes annoyed. In frustration he turns around and performs an exorcism right there and then. And, as he releases this girl from oppression, we find that economics and religious convictions collide. The owners of the slave girl and this “Psychics-R-Us” business become furious because they now have lost their lucrative income. The economic system they had in place depended on this slave girl’s illness, it depended on her not being well. So, boom!! When she becomes well, the system goes into panic mode. Her owners gather the civic leaders to make sure they all understand the economic impact the actions of Paul and Silas are having on their lives. They complain to the authorities that Paul and Silas are political subversives, undermining Roman order.
Because the authorities agree that they are subversives, Paul and Silas are arrested and beaten with rods for setting someone free, someone who was captive to evil. Then, they are shackled and thrown into prison. And what do they do? Of course, they have a hymn sing! Shackled and imprisoned they live their faith and subversively sing hymns. You see, that is the character of those who are truly free. Paul and Silas are so centered in God and in God’s reign and dream for this world they can sing regardless of their circumstances. Their singing continues into the deepest darkness of midnight when, suddenly, the earth beneath them shakes and quakes so powerfully that their shackles fall off.
As the earth shakes and quakes, the jailer awakes. He awakes to find the doors of the prison wide open. Terrified of what would happen to him when his superiors discover he has lost the prisoners; the jailer decides to kill himself. Paul stops him just in time, calling out to the jailer with words that stop him short saying, “Do not harm yourself; we are all here.” The jailer then asks one of Scripture’s most profound questions, “What must I do to be saved?”
Now, the jailer’s question is key to this whole narrative. Theologian Ronald Cole-Turner suggests, “Whenever the jailer’s question is asked, the obvious counter-question is, ‘Saved from what?’ Sword in hand, the jailer was probably thinking about how to be saved from the wrath of the authorities. However, his question has come to mean much more, depending on who is asking it.” So, I ask, what must we do to be saved from bondage, from this country’s addiction to guns, from the oppression of this addiction? What must we do to be saved from the bondage and oppression of economic systems that enable this addiction, from the seduction of authoritarian power, from the divisive hatred that exists in our present culture? How much of our economic system, our political system, our judicial system, our local government systems, and even our family systems are dependent upon so many of us not being well? The reality is that any system that operates without compassion and commitment for the good of all is not only broken, it puts people in bondage.
Paul’s answer to the jailer is deceptively simple as he takes the action to yet another level. Paul’s answer, “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ,” is an invitation to the jailer and each one of us to tune in to the level of God’s action in this world. As we tune into God’s redeeming action and God’s storyline, we are grasped and taken into the gospel story of transformation and redemption. And, quite frankly, this tuning into God is also a subversive act, because to tune into Christ as the one with dominion in our lives is to subvert whatever earthly powers claim the same dominion over our lives. To be a Christian is to be subversive. In fact, that is the story of the subversive gospel of the cross! God’s love was made manifest in Jesus’ death on a cross. When talking about living the subversive life of a Christian, theologian Douglas John Hall writes:
The gospel of the cross is not about rescuing us from our finitude; it's about a compassionate God's solidarity with us in our creaturehood and the slow grace of divine suffering-love which, without pretending finality, effects its social and personal transformations from within. It is the nature of our subversion that makes us so unique.
We, as people of faith, live the subversive gospel of the cross. We are changed from within, and we subversively live that change in this world. The change God will affect through us over earthly powers will come from our witnessing to the grace, healing, and love of the Lord Jesus Christ in our daily lives. So, centered in the gospel of the cross, we keep working for change. As we tune into God’s story of grace and redeeming love for the life of this world, we do not have to be overcome by fear or anything that would hold us in bondage. And, like Paul and Silas, we subversively sing of God’s love and saving grace regardless of the circumstances of this present day and our present lives. “Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.”
This is a special musical presentation of Bless His Holy Name by the Faith Lutheran Chancel Choir at Faith Lutheran Church in Okemos, Michigan.
As I think back to when my kids were little, I remember times when I would leave them with a babysitter so I could attend an event. I remember that, at some point in their development over those early years, each one of my kids experienced a form of separation anxiety. They would cry big crocodile tears as I would leave, and I in turn would feel terrible that I was leaving them. The truth of the matter is they stopped crying shortly after I left, and they were happy and content the rest of the time I was gone. I am sure most of you who are parents have had this same experience with your children. Separation anxiety is a normal part of development. Sigmund Freud once said such “anxiety in children is originally nothing other than the expression of the fact they are feeling the loss of the person they love.” I am also sure that most of you have some memory of what it was like to be the one who is left, and you probably have felt the anxiety that accompanies such an experience. Some may remember feeling some form of separation anxiety when you were left to face your first day of school. Some of you may have felt anxiety when you found yourself left alone at the end of a broken relationship. And many of you know the grief and anxiety of being left when faced with the loss of a loved one. It is quite likely all of us understand what it feels like to be left alone and the anxiety we feel when we face an uncertain present and future.
In today’s gospel reading, we find the disciples facing a serious, severe form of separation anxiety. It is the last evening of Jesus’ life as he spends it with his disciples before his betrayal, before he is handed over to those who hate him, those who will take him away to be executed. Jesus knows he is going to die, and he has been communicating this to his confused disciples. I imagine they are quite bewildered as they struggle to understand what Jesus is saying. Their whole life over the last three years had been consumed by following Jesus – he has been and is their guide, their rock. Without him they will be totally lost. So, as Jesus is speaking these last words to them, he addresses their anxiety, their fear, and their troubled hearts. He says, “I’m telling you these things while I’m still living with you. The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. The Holy Spirit will remind you of all the things I have told you. I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left – feeling abandoned, bereft. So don’t be upset. Don’t be distraught.” (The Message)
When Jesus says the Father will send them the Spirit, he also tells them the antidote to their fear is the peace that he gives, the peace he leaves with them. Jesus indicates that when the Spirit comes, they will experience the security of the ongoing presence of God and the Spirit will reveal to them the implications of what God has done in Jesus. The security of which Jesus speaks is not a security in the sense of physical safety, but a security that will enable them to courageously live into their calling and purpose. And if they have that security, they will be able to meet the threats they will surely encounter. It is this presence and ministry of the Holy Spirit that will calm their troubled hearts when they cannot see a future without Jesus. This is the peace with which Jesus leaves them.
We live in a world that yearns for peace. We yearn for peace in Ukraine and so many other places in this world. We yearn for peace in our own country and our own communities. We long to see an end to conflict, an end to violence, an end to the gun violence that seems to erupt all around us. We live at a time when we are being called to face the truth that our country was founded on racism, something that cannot be denied, something that it is festering and bleeding over to the point that the sins of racism and white supremacy are blatantly pedaled and promoted in certain factions of our society. We see our siblings of color consistently subjected to the violence of a system that says they are less-than. So, the world leaves us with shattering trauma, with the slow ache of depression. The world leaves us with the grief we experience as we see those we love slip away into addictions, slip away into violence, slip away into death that eventually takes each and every one of us, always too soon. Frankly, the world with all its fragile beauty often leaves us feeling like the floor has fallen out from under us, feeling utterly alone, numb, and helpless.
We as a people desperately need to hear this promise of peace that Jesus gives to us on this day! It is not the kind of peace the world can give. Jesus tells his huddled followers that he does not give as the world gives. He does not leave them the way they're used to being left. Jesus is offering them and each one of us a very different form of peace, something more than the absence of violence and conflict and hatred. The peace Jesus gives is far more encompassing. It is the wider, broader concept of shalom. The peace Jesus is describing is about the total wellbeing and wholeness of the person and community. And he promises the Holy Spirit will bring a peace that will quell the disciples’ fears regarding the impending, ominous future that is unfolding before them. The peace that Jesus gives is nothing less than the consequence of the presence of God. When God is present, peace is made manifest.
Any kind of peace the world offers only brings a brief pause from the anxiety we live with on a day-to-day basis. It is a counterfeit peace that comes to us from outside our being. But the peace Jesus gives is very different, and it is all gift. The peace of which Jesus speaks comes from the indwelling Spirit of God. As we bask in God’s love, let go of our need to control and turn our anxieties over to God, we can trust God’s presence to us and rest in Jesus’ gift and promise of peace. Freedom from anxiety is directly related to putting our whole trust in God’s gracious, loving presence and experiencing God’s peace. And Jesus freely gives us this gift of peace with no expectation in return, only a hope that, transformed by this peace, we might pass it on as gift to others.
People, you have been baptized into the body of Christ, sealed by the Holy Spirit, and marked with the cross of Christ forever. I know there have been times when some of you have faced anxiety and there will be many times in the future when you will face loss, challenge, and more anxiety. However, Jesus’ words to his disciples two thousand years ago are words that speak to each one of us today. The indwelling Holy Spirit brings Jesus’ actions into this very present moment, this present tense, and our very lives. The same one who sent Jesus as the Word made flesh sends the Holy Spirit as the refresher of God’s presence to us on this day and in each moment of our lives.
Jesus’ disciples were experiencing fear and anxiety, a severe kind of separation anxiety, as they tried to understand and face the loss of the person they loved. We are no different than those early disciples. In the quagmire of our anxiety, Jesus gifts us with his peace. As people who have been Eastered, we have the Holy Spirit in us and with us, the Spirit that is always at our back, the Spirit that is the very presence of God, the Spirit that is closer to us than our very breath, breathing peace and possibility into us, giving us calling and purpose as we face the challenges of this present time and live into God’s dream for this world.
Let us pray: O Holy Spirit, you were with the frightened disciples in that upper room. You were with the bereaved and traumatized disciples at the foot of the cross. You were with the abandoned disciples through Holy Saturday and with the amazed disciples on Easter Sunday. Thank you that you are with us now as we face our challenging and anxious times. Help us to trust and rest in the peace that Jesus has given us. Help us to truly be Easter people in this world. Give us courage to move beyond ourselves. Give us courage to walk in this world. Give us courage to love as Christ has loved us. We pray all this through the crucified and risen One. Amen.
This is a special musical performance of Entertain the Angels by the chancel choir at Faith Lutheran Church in Okemos, Michigan.
As we have seen yet again in another horrific mass shooting, we as a people need to have a confrontation with self – confront our malevolent viewpoints and malignant ideologies. We need to confront the sin of white supremacy, racism, and hatred, and move into a new place, live into a new story, a new understanding of God’s love for this world. When talking about such confrontation, Richard Rohr writes:
Every viewpoint is a view from a point. Unless we recognize and admit our own personal and cultural viewpoints, we will never know how to decentralize our own perspective. We will live with a high degree of illusion and blindness that brings much suffering into the world. [As we work to recognize this,] the love of God is the source of all truth. Only an outer and positive reference point utterly grounds the mind and heart. People with a distorted image of self, world, or God will be largely incapable of experiencing what is really real in the world. They will see things through a narrow keyhole. They’ll see instead what they need reality to be, what they’re afraid it is, or what they’re angry about. They’ll see everything through their aggressiveness, their fear, or their agenda. In other words, they won’t see it at all.
Rohr aptly describes not only our present context, but also the early church as it was called to move beyond certain boundaries, beyond personal, cultural, and traditional religious viewpoints, and learn to love beyond those boundaries and narrow understandings. Today’s readings communicate this as we continue to learn what it means to be inclusive and love others beyond boundaries of cultic religious traditions and ideologies. They teach us what it means to truly be the body of Christ in this world.
In today’s first reading from Acts, we come face to face with a confrontation of cultic religious thought. The Jewish people considered all Gentiles unclean and thought the idea of sharing an intimate dinner around a kitchen table in a pagan home was off bounds. Peter had struggled with this and then one afternoon, while praying, he had a vision. He saw a sheet filled with animals repulsive to any Jew – reptiles and pigs for instance. And God said, “Peter, fire up the grill and eat.” Peter responded, “No way, Lord, for nothing profane or unclean has ever entered my mouth.” But the Lord said, “What God makes clean you must not call profane.” Then, at that very moment three men asked Peter to come with them to the Roman centurion Cornelius’s house. And the Spirit spoke to Peter telling him not to make a distinction between them and us. So, Peter went to see Cornelius, accepted his hospitality, started to preach about the crucified Messiah who is Lord, and suddenly the Spirit descended on Cornelius just as the Spirit had on the disciples on the Day of Pentecost.
Peter’s vision had moved him beyond traditional Jewish religious boundaries. Then, when his fellow Jewish believers demand an explanation for his actions, Peter points to God. Peter says, “If then God gave them [the Gentiles] the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?”
God made it crystal clear that Jesus’ community on earth is to reflect the fact that, in Jesus, the dividing wall between peoples, nations, classes, races, and genders has been torn down! The church is to invite all people to share this life in Christ. God invites everyone so God can transform everyone with healing love. The community of believers is called to be a community of inclusive, sacrificial love.
Today’s gospel reading is also about inclusive, sacrificial love. Jesus is about to die, and he speaks these words to his disciples: “Love one another. I give you a new commandment: Love one another.” Now, most of us have always heard these words as a form of the Golden Rule. “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Words to live by. Right? Frankly, these are words Jesus, a Jewish man, would have been very familiar with. In fact, these are words Jews, Muslims and indeed people of all sorts of faith traditions hold as sacred. “Love your neighbor as you love yourself. Do onto others as you would have them do unto you and love your neighbor as you love yourself.” However, the words of the Golden Rule are not the words that appear here in the Gospel according to John. In today’s reading, Jesus adds a new twist when he says, “I give you a new commandment: Love one another, just as I have loved you.” Now, that’s some twist: “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”
Harder words were never spoken. These words Jesus shares with us are not a suggestion. They are a command, to love all others as he loves. And, quite frankly, who among us can love as Jesus loved? Jesus’ idea of loving is hard-edged, it is infinitely tender, and it is nearly impossible. These words haunt me. When I think about loving as Jesus loves, I begin to second-guess my ability to love. Love is not simple. This kind of love is not easy.
Today, the words Jesus speaks to his disciples are some of the last words he shares with them and us as he gives us a command to love as he loves. He says if you are my disciples you will stand in a different place, stand in a different state of being, stand in a different energy. He says, you will stand in the place of love for all others, because you are to love as I love. You will do this because God is love.
When talking about this passage, Father Richard Rohr says that love is not what as much as how! If you do not live love for all others, God is simply an abstraction in your life. If you do not live love for all others, God is simply a theory in your mind. Living the love that Jesus showed and lived is what brings healing and wholeness to our lives, our communities, our society and our world. The command to love as Jesus loves is clear and simple. We are to love all people, no exceptions. This kind of love is not easy, and you cannot depend on feelings if you are going to love as Jesus loves. Like forgiveness – love is a decision of your mind and heart. Love is a choice. When you are not living this kind of love, not living in love for all people, you will use any excuse to be unhappy, angry, and hateful. Quite honestly, such negative feelings, actions, behaviors, attitudes and attributes cannot coexist in the mind and heart of someone who has made the decision to love as Jesus loves. They cannot coexist because living in the love of Jesus means you are standing in a different space, a different state, a different energy, a different reality. It means you are consciously aware that you are living in the reality and presence of the loving, living Lord Jesus Christ.
Today, as Jesus gives this command to love even as he loves we must look at what his love looks like. His is a love that surrenders itself to God’s holy dream to love all people, this entire world, to love and care for all of creation, to love the entire cosmos. His love surrenders itself to God’s holy dream to love the world into life, even to the point of giving his own life. Jesus’ love glorifies God’s purpose and mercy, and this is the love he commands us to live.
So, what does this love look like in our very lives? I love the way Brian McClaren talks about love in his book, Corey & the Seventh Story. He writes that we, as people, seem to continually live the same six old stories over and over again, the same old six stories that seem to be running the show. Those six stories are:
The story of power to dominate,
The story of striking back with fury and hate,
The story of running to find a safe place,
Or pointing at others to shame and disgrace,
Or being stuck in self-pity for the pain we’ve been through,
Or of me having more shiny objects than you.
These same six old stories steal freedom and laughter,
So, nobody lives happily ever after. But….
There’s a new Seventh Story to live by, my friends,
A new Seventh Story without “us against them”—
Of working for fairness in all that we do,
Of refusing to strike back when others strike you,
Of facing our problems and not running to hide,
Of not letting differences make us divide,
Of turning our pain into compassion for others,
Of not wanting more than our sisters and brothers.
The new Seventh Story that I’m speaking of
Is the story of peace, it’s the story of love.
Jesus spoke to those early disciples, and he speaks to each one of us saying, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” That is our new story. May we live in the reality of such love!
This is a special musical performance of The King of Love My Shepherd Is, a duet by Tammy Heilman and Ryan Thomson at Faith Lutheran Church in Okemos, Michigan.
“What for?” asked Kreisler.
The policemen responded, “You have Fritz Kreisler’s violin.”
Kreisler said, “I am Fritz Kreisler.”
The cop said, “You can’t pull that on us. Come along to the station.” As Kreisler’s boat was soon to sail, he faced a crisis. His identity was being questioned and there was no time for prolonged explanations. Kreisler asked for his violin and played a piece for which he was well known. “Now are you satisfied?” he asked. They were. Kreisler’s identity was revealed through his action and the playing he exhibited. His actions spoke louder than any words he could have uttered regarding his identity.
In today’s reading from John’s gospel, we are plunged into a crisis – an identity crisis. In today’s gospel reading Jesus’ identity is again being questioned by the religious leaders. It is the middle of winter and the festival of Dedication, a festival now known as Hanukkah. Jesus is walking in the Temple, in the portico of Solomon – the place from which the king would render judgments upon those seeking justice. And, it is in that place where Jesus again responds to questions about his identity. The religious leaders who wish to discredit Jesus taunt him and demand to know just who he thinks he is. They say, “Hey, Jesus, stop keeping us in the dark. If you’re the Messiah, just tell us straight out. Just who are you, Jesus? What are you up to and how long are you going to annoy us?”
Now, in John’s gospel, Jesus’ identity has been revealed from the very beginning and, throughout the gospel, Jesus has been revealing himself as God’s light in the world. He has been healing people, opening the eyes of the blind and giving the people around him numerous, multiple insights into his identity. He has been demonstrating and revealing who he is through the entirety of his ministry. So, he now responds by saying, “I told you, but you don’t believe. Everything I have done has been authorized by my Father, actions that speak louder than words. You don’t believe because you are not my sheep. You don’t recognize the voice of the shepherd among you.”
Jesus uses the metaphor of sheep and shepherd, a metaphor very familiar to people of that time and place, one that is threaded throughout scripture and helps more fully articulate his identity. However, we are not always able to fully grasp an understanding of this metaphor. It really is quite foreign to our context and experience. At the time of Jesus, all the sheep of the village – the entire village – were kept in one place, one fenced in field. And, when it was time for each of the owners to take their sheep back home, each shepherd would call his own sheep by using a unique, special call. When the sheep heard that unique call, they recognized the voice and they would leave the fenced in field to follow their shepherd home.
So, in today’s reading, Jesus frames his identity and role in terms of being the good shepherd. He frames his identity as the trusted voice to whom the sheep will listen and follow. He frames his identity as the good shepherd by claiming those sheep the Father has given him as his very own. And, he makes a promise. He says no one will snatch his sheep out of the Father’s hand. He boldly articulates his identity when he claims that everything he has done has been authorized by the Father. And, he then makes this remarkable claim; he announces that he and the Father are one – he and the father are of the same mind. Jesus is saying that he and God are united in the work they do. He is saying it is impossible to distinguish his work from God’s work, because he shares fully in God’s work.
This reading is so meaningful for all of us as we live our daily lives. There are times in life when we experience great joy, and there are times when we experience enormous challenge and sorrow. Life encompasses a mix of all kinds of experiences. But, as we make this journey through all that life brings, Jesus’ words to us today are steadfast words of promise. Jesus is speaking to each one of us. Jesus, the good shepherd, promises us stubborn protection and care. His is a voice the flock hears and knows and follows. And, his voice is especially precious in the mixedness of all that life brings. We cling to that voice. We cling to the promise that, even though life itself may be snatched away, no one will be snatched from the Father’s hand and not one person will be snatched from God’s immense love. We cling to the promise that we do not go on in vain, that the Good Shepherd walks with us, guiding us and protecting us in the depth of everything life lays before us. We listen and cling to the voice of our Shepherd, the voice that empowers and equips us with something greater than all else, the power of love – forgiving, transforming love. This is the power that raises up, this is the power that enabled Peter to raise up Dorcas, this is the power that has infused this congregation and is raising us up as we move out of a pandemic, as we again boldly gather as God’s people in this place, as we live into the ministry of the body of Christ in this place. This is the power of the risen Christ! This is the power that will always raise us up throughout our lives as we face all the challenges and joy and sorrow and grief, all the mixedness of life that we encounter. This is the power that gives us our true identity.
The late theologian, Fred Craddock, once told a story of and encounter he had when he and his wife were on vacation. Craddock said:
They were seated at a table in a restaurant in the Smokey Mountains. An elderly gentleman engaged them in conversation and when he found out Fred was a minister, he pulled up a seat, and said “I have to tell you a story.” Little did Fred know at the time that the man who pulled up a seat was a former two-time governor of Tennessee, Ben Hooper.
Hooper told him, “I owe a great deal to a minister of the Christian church. I grew up in these mountains. My mother was not married and the whole community knew it. In those days that brought shame. The reproach that fell on my mother, fell also on me. When I went into town with her, I could see people staring at me, making guesses as to who my father was. At school the children said ugly things to me, and so I stayed to myself during recess, and I ate my lunch alone. In my early teens I began to attend a little church back in the mountains called Laurel Springs Christian Church. They had a minister who was both attractive and frightening. He had a chiseled face, a heavy beard, and a deep voice. I went just to hear him preach. I don’t know exactly why, but it did something for me. However, I was afraid that I was not welcome since I was, as they put it, a bastard. So, I would arrive just in time for the sermon, and when it was over, I would get out of there quick because I was afraid someone would say, ‘What’s a boy like you doing in church?’
One Sunday some people lined up the aisle before I could get out. Before I could make my way through the group, I felt a hand on my shoulder, a heavy hand. I could see out the corner of my eye his beard and his chin, and knew it was the minister. I trembled in fear. He turned his face around so he could see mine and he seemed to stare at me for a while. I knew what he was doing. I knew that he was going to make a guess as to who my father was. A moment later he said, ‘Well, boy, you’re a child of . . .’ and he paused. And I knew what was coming. I knew I would have my feelings hurt. I knew I would not go back again. He said, ‘Boy, you’re a child of God. I see a striking resemblance.’ Then he swatted me on the backside and said, ‘Now, you go claim your inheritance.’” Then the former governor of Tennessee told Fred, “I left the building a different person. In fact, that was really the beginning of my life.”
“You are a child of God. I see a striking resemblance.” That’s who you are. That’s who I am. We are children of God. Jesus, the good shepherd, has raised us to new life and given each one of us a priceless identity – naming us and claiming us as God’s very own. Go claim your inheritance and live into that identity.
This is a special musical performance of Run, Mary Run by the Faith Lutheran Chancel Choir.
As we look at our gospel reading this morning, I think the disciples have been on an exhausting, emotional rollercoaster, one much more intense and traumatic than the one I experienced, and they are now experiencing emotional overload. First, there had been that tension-filled yet joyous entry into Jerusalem which was followed by a Passover meal unlike any other. Then, there was that intense experience of Jesus’ betrayal and arrest. They had witnessed jeering mobs as Jesus was given a mock trial, beaten, and ultimately sentenced to death by bloody, torturous crucifixion. This left them emotionally crushed, numb, and afraid. They had been so afraid by this turn of events they fled, deserting Jesus in his last hours. And, before they had time to process what had happened, they experienced emotional overload of another sort with the news of the empty tomb and the various resurrection appearances which had to be seen to even be believed. The past few weeks had truly been confusing and overwhelming as they experienced emotional extremes from the deepest, darkest grief to the most unexpected, ecstatic joy. It is probably an understatement to say they were experiencing emotional overload.
In the aftermath of all that has happened, the disciples needed some time to process all they have experienced and think about what they would now do. So, they returned to Galilee. They go back home to find a new sense of normal while trying to assimilate all that has happened. They go back to what they know, attempting to escape to what is familiar to them, to what had been routine and ordinary, to what had been a way of life before Jesus took them on a disruptive three-year excursion. When back home, impetuous, reactive, Peter announces he is going fishing. And, following his lead, several of the other disciples tag along.
After the extreme, earth-shattering experiences of the past weeks, Peter and the others board a fishing boat and go back to handling those heavy nets throughout the cold night. Now, it is important to remember that Peter is the one who had denied Jesus three times. He had failed Jesus, and fear had led him to distance himself from Jesus. We are left to imagine his disappointment with himself and the feelings of guilt and shame he was most likely experiencing. And now, as he attempts to go back to what his life used to be like, his efforts are fruitless. After a night of fishing, the disciples are not able to catch any fish. In addition to having failed Jesus, Peter is confronted with failing at something he has done all his life, something that had been his vocation.
As they begin to catch the first glimmers of dawn break into the dark of night, the disciples see a man on the shore standing by a small charcoal fire. This stranger calls out to them suggesting something very odd saying, “Cast your nets on the other side of the boat.” The disciples comply and suddenly their net is full and overflowing with fish! Well, when one of the disciples recognizes this stranger as the Lord, impetuous, reactive Peter jumps out of the boat and clambers toward shore. The disciples discover that it is in fact Jesus who stands there and invites them to enjoy breakfast on the beach.
After gathering around the charcoal fire and finishing their breakfast of bread and grilled fish, Jesus begins grilling Peter. Speaking directly to this guilt plagued disciple, Jesus lovingly and graciously asks, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Jesus asks him this question three times and, undoubtedly, Peter remembers standing around another charcoal fire where he had denied Jesus three times. When Jesus asks him for the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter seems almost irritated by Jesus’ persistence. But, in his persistence, Jesus shows he will not disown Peter or let him go. The betrayed one bestows overwhelming grace on the betrayer. And, as theologian William Loader suggests, “Almost irritated by divine grace, Peter opens himself to life and leadership. Peter will feed the sheep. Peter will follow Jesus, as he said.” With these three affirmations of love, the trajectory of Peter’s life is forever changed as Jesus now tells Peter what to do with that love – feed his lambs, tend his sheep, and feed his flock.
In this experience, Peter and the other disciples discover that going back to their former life and trade is not an escape. The ordinary and the routine will no longer be ordinary and routine. The disciples discover that there is absolutely no place where they can go or where they can escape the forgiveness and love of this one who has changed them forever. So, whether we are on emotional overload or not, what does this story mean for us and how does the resurrection change our lives right here and right now? There are as many responses to Easter today as there were two thousand years ago. Some flee from the good news and consider it an “idle tale.” Some go out and share the good news. Some return to their homes as did the disciples. But, going home to hide from Jesus is NOT an option for us any more than it was for Peter and the disciples. The implications of this Easter news are deep. We are completely loved. We are completely forgiven. When fear or guilt or shame hold us back, love is always going to call us forward. We are a people who have been Eastered, and we no longer need to make choices out of fear. We can now move away and break free from the fear that binds us and make choices that are rooted in love for others, even love for those we consider different from us.
Yes, the good news is that we have been Eastered! And, we are called not only to proclaim God’s love, a love we have seen and known in Jesus, but to also act on it by feeding and tending God’s sheep, all of the others in our lives. That means setting aside the way fear binds us up into small lives and small ways of living. That means embracing love as the basis of every action we undertake. In the resurrection, God’s love has been set loose in this world and that love is transforming the world through this broken body of Christ to which we belong and of which we are a part. Just as Jesus confronted Peter in the depth of his despair and guilt and, as we heard in our first reading, just as Jesus also confronted Paul who was angrily breathing threats of murder fed by misguided zeal, Jesus confronts us in the depth of all that is not life giving but life taking. And, that confrontation always comes to us as grace and love, changing our perspective, giving us new eyes to see, and NEVER leaving us where we have been or even where we are, but drawing us forward into life and love itself.
Paige, Kaden, and Austin, Jesus is speaking to you today. As I have said over and over to you, the most important thing I hope you will always remember is that God loves you and God showers you with grace and God will never ever let you go, no matter what you do and what happens to you in life. In the face of such overwhelming love, our response really is all about sharing that love with others. And, as you are about to make affirmation of your baptism, God is speaking to you and asking, “Paige, Kaden, and Austin, do you love me? Then, feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep.” Quite frankly, God is asking each one of us gathered here this morning, “Do you love me? Then, feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep. Share my love and grace with others and live out that love and grace in relationship to all people as you work for justice, peace, and healing in this world.” We live in the morning light of the resurrection and there is no room for guilt or fear. We are forgiven, loved and freed. And, yes, we have some work to do. We have some sheep to feed.